


autumn town leaves

by lucigucci



Series: so you're a simp for elliot stardew valley... [3]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28991559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucigucci/pseuds/lucigucci
Summary: elliott's birthday is here! there's no way you can let him spend it all alonehttps://open.spotify.com/playlist/3pOoiImyTFyp6KqTSCbeXm?si=gTybXwwZQKO7aVnEBVviyA
Relationships: Elliott/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Elliott/Male Player (Stardew Valley), Elliott/Player (Stardew Valley)
Series: so you're a simp for elliot stardew valley... [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123496
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	autumn town leaves

The moment you noticed the calendar outside Pierre’s, you were in just as much of a flurry as the falling autumn leaves. Elliott’s birthday is in a few days!

You asked him about it the same day you learned of it. “Are you going to throw a party?” you wondered aloud. “Down at the docks? At your house? Oh-- or are you leaving town to visit your family?”

“Nothing of the sort, I’m afraid. I always spend my birthday alone.”

“Oh.” You paused, then continued, “do you… like it that way?”

The tip of his nose turned pink. He was intent on studying his own shoelaces. “I’m just particular about who I spend my time with, is all.”

You reached out and touched his arm. “Would you like it if I came and saw you? We could have a party of our own, or we could just talk for a bit, whatever you want.”

“Yes! Yes, I’d like that very much!”

Thank god! You promise to come see him the morning of his birthday come rain or shine.

Now that you have a date set, all you have to worry about is a gift. It might be creepy, but you’ve been keeping track of what Elliott likes and dislikes, and you’ve ruled out quite a few possibilities for presents. You even tried asking around for suggestions and nobody had any clues. At last, you settle on canning some wild spiceberries to make preserves. After all, everybody likes jam, right? (You hope so). 

On that note, your little farmhouse has been feeling very empty as of late. You even broke the bank and spent your savings on expanding it to include a bedroom, and Robin was sweet about it as usual, but something still feels off. At first, you thought it might be nerves-- moving into a brand new town and a new house must be weighing on you-- yet after making so many new friends, the feeling had ebbed away sooner than you expected. Your next thought was dissatisfaction with your work, but that wasn’t it either. Working at Joja was the epitome of dissatisfaction. You’ve never been more excited to wake up in the morning and water crops and catch fish and go digging and whatever the hell. 

Then what…?

Well, at least you’re keeping busy. Besides, when the feeling grows too strong, you can always trek down to the beach and check on Elliott, and he always lifts your spirits. You need to show him your appreciation on this day of all days.

On the morning of the fifth, you tie Elliott’s jam jar with a bright green ribbon and attach a handwritten note wishing him HAPPY BIRTHDAY. A flutter of anxiety has crept into your stomach and refuses to leave. What if he only accepted your offer to be polite? Are you intruding? And even if he does want to see you, what if he hates your gift and by extension gets angry at you?

There’s only one way to find out.

You forgo tending to your crops this morning in favor of heading straight down to the beach. The jam is heavy in your backpack. You don’t stop and talk to anyone on your way-- you’re on a mission, damn it. Fallen reddish leaves swirl around your feet where you run. You’re so focused, you almost don’t notice when--

“Good morning!”

You stumble over your own feet and steady yourself on the rails of the southern bridge. “Elliott! Hi!”

Elliott grins and steadies you with a careful hand over yours. “Wow, you were going even faster than usual. What’s the hurry?”

“You, of course!” You shrug your backpack off so you can dig through it. “It-- it’s your-- I didn’t want to be late--”

“What?”

You brandish the spiceberry jam at him. “Here! Happy birthday!”

He blinks, then makes an “oh” of recognition. “I nearly forgot! Thank you so very much!”

“Do you still want company today?”

“There’s nothing I’d like more.” He takes the jam, turning it in the sunlight to examine its contents, eyes sparkling with interest. “This looks delicious… I wasn’t aware that you produced artisan goods at that farm of yours. You’re settling into your new life very well, I take it.”

“I think so.”

Elliott pauses, eyes flicking back to yours. “You think so?” he repeats.

You busy yourself with closing your backpack. “It’s… yeah, it’s no big deal. Today is supposed to be about you.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I would like to hear about any problems you may be having,” he replies. “As your friend and neighbor, I want you to be happy.”

“That’s really nice of you, but--”

“I insist.” He hops up on the stone railing, sets the jar next to his leg, and pats the other side to signal for you to join him. You do, not too close.

“I was just thinking,” you say, “I’ve… honestly, I think I’ve been really lonely. Not that I don’t feel like I have any friends or anything,” you add quickly, “because everybody here is so nice, and I’m really lucky that I’ve been welcomed in like part of a family!”

His gaze lights on your hand resting on the railing, just for a moment, thinking better of it. He rearranges his own hands in his lap. “Everyone here cares about you very much, my dear. Never doubt it.”

“I don’t. I won’t.”

“Then what exactly is this loneliness you speak of?”

You swing your feet in time to a song that isn’t playing. “It’s one thing to have a community that’s so kind and caring, but it’s another thing to go home every night to an empty house and an empty bed,” you admit.

“Ah… yes, I know exactly what you mean. We’re two of the only souls in town that live on our own.”

A breeze blows. Elliott’s hair sways to the side, and you wish you could run your fingers through it. “Are you lonely too, then?” you ask gently.

He fiddles with his own fingers. “Erm. Well. Yes, I suppose I am.”

Your heart skips a beat. You inch closer to him. “What if-- Elliott, what if we both could get what we want?”

“Hm? How?”

“You could come and live with me on the farm!”

He freezes. “Are-- you serious?”

“Sure! I could really use some help with keeping things up!” You move a little closer. Excitement pounds loud in your chest. “See, I really want to get some animals, but I’ve got too much on my plate to take care of them right now… and with another pair of hands, hell, I could even find the time to go mining for iron! Clint’s been on my case about--”

“I don’t know,” he interrupts softly.

Reality crashes around your ears like the tidal waves down the road. He looks so sincerely sorry that your voice dies in your throat. “Um, no pressure,” you mutter.

“R-right.”

“It’s just… something to think about. I know it’d be a big change, but at least neither of us would be alone anymore.”

He fixes his hair over his shoulder, refusing to meet your eyes. “I’m sorry… I really am, it sounds wonderful… but I must decline.”

You hesitate, then ask, “may I ask why?”

Elliott shakes his head. “I can’t tell you right now. It’s not that I don’t-- er, my book, so much to do-- perhaps when I build up the courage, I will explain everything, but now-- oh god, I’m such a coward--!”

“Elliott--”

“Did you know that on my fifth birthday I fell out of my bedroom window and gave myself a concussion?” he blurts out.

You raise your eyebrows. “... um. No?”

“W-well, I did. I spent the rest of the day in the hospital. We had to throw away the whole cake. Dreadful business. To this day, I can’t look at a pile of bricks without a splitting headache.”

You stare at each other for a few seconds. He’s imploring you. “Wow,” you reply with a shaky smile. “That must’ve been the worst birthday ever.”

His shoulders relax and he lets out a chuckle. “That was the second-worst birthday.”

“Second-worst? What could top a concussion?”

And then he regails you with an anecdote about his twelfth birthday, full of laughter and flushed cheeks. You push the rejection to the back of your mind. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, you won’t force him. The “birthday party” is peaceful and cheerful and only stops when you have to tear yourself away to get some work done. 

And yet… when you get back home, when the sun is setting, that empty feeling in your heart returns, seeing your spacious land and empty bed and two-person couch, you suddenly realize what it means.

When you try to sleep, green eyes open under your eyelids, sparkling like polished emeralds.

_Are you lonely too?_

_… could we be lonely together?_


End file.
